


In the road

by BlushLouise



Series: Wireless [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alt Modes, Consensual Touching, Multi, Non-Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Public Sex, Wireless Sexual Interfacing, if the car's a-rocking don't come a-knocking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 04:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21173810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushLouise/pseuds/BlushLouise
Summary: The war's over. The Decepticons practically live in the Autobot base. There's cross-factional signal frags going on in the hallways, for Primus' sake. Going on a small assignment for Ratchet should have been as easy as rigging the betting pool.Unfortunately for Smokescreen, he gets stuck in traffic. And his admirers know to take advantage of that.





	In the road

**Author's Note:**

> This is utterly consensual, even if it doesn't read quite like it at first. Takes place after Wireless.  
Thanks, StarlightCaptivator, for reading through the first draft ^^
> 
> Title and plot bunny inspired by the Beatles' "Do it in the road", specifically the Across the universe version. Lyrics:  
No one will be watching us  
Why don't we do it in the road?
> 
> ^_*

For the most part, Smokescreen liked Earth. At least now that the fragging issue had been resolved to almost everyone’s satisfaction. Earth had nice, smooth, flat roads, awesome weather – aside from the snow, and almost endless possibilities for gambling and other connivery that Smokescreen liked to entertain himself with.

But he could have done without the traffic. Especially this kind of slow-moving gridlock that the humans seemed to specialize in at certain times of the day.

::Smokescreen to the Ark.::

::Ark responding. Go ahead, Smokey.:: It was Hot Spot handling the comms, all calm and professional. Smokescreen could appreciate that. He didn’t think he had the patience to deal with both the traffic and chaotic comms handlers today. And he still wasn’t used to reporting in and getting one of Soundwave’s brats on the line.

::I’m still stuck on the highway,:: Smokescreen reported. ::Let Ratchet know that his doohickey will be late, could you? It looks like this’ll take a while.::

::Will do. There’s been a three-car pileup three miles or so ahead of you, that’s probably why everything’s even slower than usual. Local authorities are working on clearing the road now.::

::Roger that. I’ll stick to it.:: He snorted. ::Not like I can get off this road without standing up and walking away anyway. I’ll let you know when something changes. Smokescreen out.::

He fought back a growl. Too many humans around for him to make noise. He was far too flashy to be inconspicuous as it was.

Pit, did this suck slag.

Another thirty minutes, another fifty feet. But at least the traffic was moving, if exceedingly slowly. At this rate, he’d make his destination by nightfall. Lucky him.

He was so insanely bored that at first he thought he imagined the touch to his spoiler. That maybe it was just a stray draft of air stirring the exhaust-filled air around him. But a few seconds later it came again, a very deliberate teasing touch along the sensitive spoiler edge, and now there was no doubt.

Someone was signal-teasing him. And he didn’t know who it was.

Another touch, this time to the inside of his chassis, and Smokescreen had to suppress a tremor. And a curse. He’d never minded a bit of exhibitionism, but freaking out the humans wasn’t part of the plan.

Hoping whoever was targeting him was near enough to notice, he sent out a general signal amounting to a smarting flick to a sensitive chevron. The message should be clear. Knock it off.

Message not received, apparently, or deliberately misunderstood, since a moment later his spoiler was teased again. This time the touch was firm enough to send shivers of charge through Smokescreen’s entire frame. He clamped down on his reactions, forcing himself to remain still.

::Frag you,:: he snarled over short-range comms.

::That’s the idea.::

Damn. He knew that voice. And where there was one Constructicon, there were bound to be more.

::Not the time or the place, mech.::

::Why?:: Long Haul was practically purring. ::You got something better to do? Way I see it, you’re stuck there. We might as well have some fun.:: He teased Smokescreen’s spoiler again.

Smokescreen told himself he didn’t want this. It really wasn’t a good time and place, not surrounded by humans on all sides. Before, whenever the Constructicons had gotten closer than he’d liked, he’d just left. He could outdrive them any day of the week.

Except when he was caught in traffic.

::Enjoying yourself yet?:: Long Haul teased. ::I’ve got more tricks if you don’t.:: That statement was accompanied with a phantom touch to Smokescreen’s suspension, and slag how was that even sensitive? It was all Smokescreen could do to stay steady on his wheels.

Reciprocating was out of the question. This wasn’t behavior he wanted to encourage.

Thankfully, the traffic began moving again. Fairly fast, too, at least compared to previously. Smokescreen followed the flow of the traffic, not really regretting it when Long Haul’s touch became weaker and weaker. Really. It was good he could move away.

_It’s not the time or the place, Smokey._

::Later,:: he sent. So much for not regretting it.

The flow didn’t last long. Half a mile later the traffic gridlocked again, possibly even tighter than before, and Smokescreen let his engine idle. This was very frustrating.

The signal-teasing across his door edges didn’t help any at all.

He knew he was out of Long Haul’s range, it wasn't all that large. Unless he was using the satellites, which Smokescreen doubted; the Constructicons preferred not to deal with Soundwave any more than they had to and probably didn’t have that version of the tech. Which meant that it wasn’t Long Haul touching him now. And if it wasn’t Long Haul…

His doors tingled again.

… it was Mixmaster. Had to be. Mech had a door fascination the likes of which Smokey’d never have believed before he met them.

::Mech, what are you doing?::

::You’re just so shiny.:: Mixmaster it was. ::Did you polish for this?::

::I always polish up for town trips,:: Smokescreen replied, resisting the urge to press against the firm contact. ::You know that.::

::Mmm.:: Mixmaster teased his mirrors, making him feel like they were immersed in liquid charge. ::Not this thoroughly, you don’t. Makes me wonder who you're meeting.::

Mixmaster had a jealous side. He wasn’t as bad as Hook, not by a long shot, but he wasn’t as harmless and whimsical as he came across either. Smokescreen kind of liked that – he wouldn’t have known what to do with harmless and whimsical.

The faint pinch to his doors told him Mix was in a playful mood. And a slightly possessive one.

::I’m not meeting anyone. I’m picking up a part for Ratchet from one of the human hospitals for a project he’s working on.:: He sent a small poke at Mixmaster. It wasn’t really a sensual touch, but Mixmaster’s efforts on his doors doubled. And it was really ratcheting Smokescreen’s charge up. There was a reason Mixmaster liked playing with his doors so much.

The traffic began moving again. ::Gotta go, mech. I’ll see you around.::

::Aww.:: Mixmaster’s pout of disappointment was audible in the transmission. It was also probably fake. ::Guess I’ll see you on the home stretch then.::

Smokescreen was a little too concerned to ask what that meant. He didn’t have the focus to spare to think about it either. Driving with a charge was harder than he thought it would be, and he kept snapping sparks off the ground. Hopefully none of the human cars would come close enough for it to be noticeable.

A little while later, everything slowed to a stop again. This time, Smokescreen was a lot less surprised by the touch that greeted him.

Tentative, shy, but still excited. Focused on the cables and wires that would be across his chest in root mote.

::Hi, Scav.::

::Hey,:: Scavenger replied happily. ::The good news is that the gridlock clears up ahead of you.::

::And the bad news?:: Smokescreen couldn’t keep himself from being amused. Scavenger was always a sweetheart.

::The bad news is that once it clears up you’ll be driving away from me. So I’ll better make the most of the time I’ve got.::

Smokescreen’s engine revved under Scavenger’s insistent touches. The car in front of him rolled a foot or two forward in response. Not that there was anywhere for them to drive, and not that Smokescreen had actually meant to scare the humans inside. Scavenger was just very, very good with cables and wires, and Smokescreen couldn’t help himself.

In response, he sent a full-frame pulse back, teasing every cable and sensitive spot on Scavenger’s frame. The keen over the comm was well worth it.

The traffic moved, and Smokescreen made sure to keep up even as he put a few extra feet between himself and the car in front. Scavenger seemed to increase his efforts, and now every part of Smokescreen’s frame was tingling with charge.

He was having a hard time keeping his wheels straight. They kept wanting to slide out and spin independently of each other.

At last, the off-ramp came into view. Not a moment too soon – if he’d gone past one more Construction, had to endure more touches to his frame while he was powerless to go anywhere or even react, he would have broken cover for sure.

For once, keeping to the speed limit wasn’t a problem. He didn’t have enough control over his frame to go fast right now. At least the traffic eased up once he was off the highway.

::Smokescreen to the Ark.::

::Ark responding.:: Blaster this time. ::You off the highway yet, mech?::

::A few minutes ago. Should be easy travels from here on to the labs. Can’t make any guarantees for the return yet, though, if the gridlock hasn’t eased up.::

::We’re monitoring it. It’s all good. Enjoy the drive, m’ mech! Blaster out.::

As soon as the comm call disconnected, he was signal-teased again. This time the touch was exact, precise, hitting his sensor clusters with a focused accuracy.

::Hook.::

::Hello, Smokescreen.::

::Why is your gestalt harassing me today?:: Keeping a cool tone was increasingly difficult, but he was on a mission, damnit. Official Autobot business.

::Because you’re so tempting,:: Hook purred. ::Besides, if you really didn’t want it, you could turn off your signal receiver. You know we’d back off.::

Smokescreen growled at him. Hook was right, of course, but for some reason it hadn’t occurred to him to actually turn the receiver off. He would blame the way they made it harder and harder for him to think.

He took a right, aiming for the straightest way to the lab. And growled again at the road works sign forcing him to take a left. The detour was clearly marked, thankfully, but it also followed a lot of narrow one-way alleys and took him further and further away from the labs. He was getting close to completely lost, and Hook’s continued touches did not make it any easier for him to think.

His last right turn was a dead end. He’d somehow ended up inside an abandoned parking garage.

Well. Not quite abandoned. There were three construction vehicles there, in glaring neon green and purple.

Frag.

Literally.

“Hello, Smokescreen.” Hook smirked at him.

“I can’t do this right now.” Smokescreen transformed, so he could frown at them. It had nothing to do with the way it gave them easier access to his sensitive spots. It didn’t. “I have a job to do.”

“We won’t keep you long.” Scrapper moved closer, and Smokescreen backed up against the wall, locking his knee joints against the caress to his thigh seams. “We just wanted to borrow you for a while. The Autobots can have you back after.”

Bonecrusher stepped up next to him. He was tall enough to make Smokescreen feel short. “We can’t really frag you properly,” he rumbled, deep voice making Smokescreen all kinds of tingly. “But we can certainly make it so you won’t drive straight when you leave here.”

A few short months ago, that would have been a threat. Now, Smokescreen surrendered to Bonecrusher’s touches, both physical and signaled, and tried to give as good as he got.

“Frag,” Hook groaned, sparks visible in his seams. “Scav and Hauler and Mix are going to be sorry they missed this.”

“Tell them to ambush me on the way back,” Smokescreen groaned as he tilted his pelvis into Scrapper’s talented hands. Part of him knew it was a bad idea, but the bigger part of him didn’t care, and Scavenger really made the most amazing noises.

“One of these days we’ll kidnap you for the whole day,” Scrapper murmured. Bonecrusher hummed his assent against Smokescreen’s doorwing. “And we’ll overload you until you can’t move.”

Smokescreen figured that was a real risk this time too. Being at the mercy of more than one Construction was always a bit overwhelming. He was barely standing up as it was.

Scrapper dug his fingers into the gaps between Smokescreen’s hips and thighs, and Smokescreen was done for. He overloaded with a shout, sparks jumping from his plating to the three Constructicons’. It was gratifying to see Hook go to his knees as well, head thrown back as he keened his release to the garage ceiling.

Smokescreen’s legs gave in, and he slid down along the wall until he was a heap of loose plating on the floor. His head thunked against Bonecrusher’s leg. “Slaggers.”

“Oh, definitely,” Bonecrusher agreed. “Need some energon?”

Smokescreen took the offered cube gratefully and without hesitation. The days when he'd feared the Constructicons would try to poison him were behind him. And besides, he did need the fuel.

One cube and a short cuddle-session later, he extricated himself from Bonecrusher’s grasp. “I’ve got to get going, mechs. I’m technically on duty.” Prowl was somewhat more lax now that he was getting his gears tweaked by Ironhide all the fragging time, but he wasn’t _this_ lax. Smokescreen had dawdled too long already.

He pushed Scrapper’s leg of his own and stood up shakily, taking stock of himself as he did. The biggest advantage of signal-fragging, he figured, was the lack of paint transfers. There were a few traces of green on his pelvis plating, a very noticeable bite mark on his doorwing – he hadn’t even felt that happen – but aside from that, he was as clean as he’d been before he left base.

Minus the road dust and general grime, of course. At least it hadn’t been raining.

“We’ll see you later?” Scrapper somehow managed to turn the phrase into a question.

“You will,” Smokescreen confirmed. “But I have to go. If I don’t get Ratchet his thingamajig soon, he’s likely to reformat me into something stationary.”

“Go,” Hook mumbled, half in recharge against Bonecrusher’s back. “See you around.”

Smokescreen winked, saluted, and left.

Getting the doohickey was easy, even if he was a little late. Getting back through the city was easy too, since all the detour signs were suddenly and mysteriously gone. Getting onto the highway was a breeze.

But of course, the highway was gridlocked again. Not as bad as earlier, but still enough to slow traffic to a crawl.

::Smokescreen to the Ark.::

::Ark responding.::

::Soundwave. Hi. I just called to say that I’m stuck in traffic again, but I have Ratchet’s stuff. I’ll be back as soon as possible.::

::Affirmative.:: The connection closed.

Mech of few words, that one.

Smokescreen settled in for yet another long, slow drive through the exhaust and filth the human cars spewed out. There wasn’t much he could do other than to follow the flow and hope it wouldn’t take too long. He was grateful to the Constructicons for fueling him now.

Another few minutes, another few feet. If Smokescreen was a human, he figured he would have been whistling tunelessly the way Sparkplug sometimes did when he was working. He contemplated putting on the radio, but he didn’t have Blaster’s patience for human music. Or Jazz’s, thank Primus.

… someone touched his spoiler. Carefully, gently. ::Hi, Smokescreen.::

Smokescreen chuckled and settled low on his wheels. ::Hey, Scavenger.::

Looked like the return trip wouldn’t be too boring after all.


End file.
